


An Uppercut to the Ego

by nebulaethereal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Rescue, Rescue Missions, Romance, Slow Burn, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-01 20:09:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15781209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nebulaethereal/pseuds/nebulaethereal
Summary: After Draco saves Hermione from torture at the hands of Bellatrix-- what will he do to keep her from even more devious plans?





	1. What a stupid idea

On the way to the main room, Draco heard awful sounds. He didn’t know what exactly he was about to walk into, but found himself privy to the sight of some of the more note-worthy snatchers dragging two young wizards into the hall. Having slammed them down onto the pristine marble floor (or it was at least once pristine, now blood-caked and marred by dark magic), the two young wizards writhed in discomfort. With plenty of wands drawn and pointed at the pair, they dare not move.

Upon entering, there was a commotion, Bellatrix approaching the pair and beginning to question them.

“Who are you, witch?” Bellatrix hissed toward the bushy-haired figured whom Draco recognized immediately.

“I think she’s the mudblood, that Hermione Granger, Miss.” One of the snatchers offered.

She laughed, an awful sound shattering nearby constitutions. The pair on the floor winced, as Bellatrix came closer, glaring down at the witch. “Are you sure…” She whispered, using her crooked wand to inspect closer.

“My name is Hannah Abbot!” Hermione bellowed, making Bellatrix take a step back. Her eyes shot to Draco.

“Nephew, come here, tell me who these two are. They are students, surely.”

One of the two was a loathsome looking fellow, with half-bloated features and an obviously faulty disfiguration glamour gone wrong. Upon approaching, Draco noticed immediately that it was Harry Potter, and his heart thumped loudly in his ears. His eyes darted to the witch, who was quite apparently a very fearful Hermione Granger. Without much time to think, he shook his head.

“No… This isn’t either of them… He doesn’t even have a scar on his face, and I don’t know her.” He insisted, shaking his head. Bellatrix suddenly shoved him closer to the witch’s face, nearly slamming their foreheads together.

“Are you _certain_?” She hissed into his ear, making him shiver in disgust at the sound.

Hermione’s stoic eyes began to faulter, especially at this proximity. His stark grey eyes were much more fear-filled than hers, though. With a swallow, he slowly shook his head once more, as if attempting to impress upon Hermione something urgent. “No. I do not know them.” He insists, nostrils flaring in his attempt to lie.

Hermione’s maintained contact with his eye, and there was a very real moment of connection when she understood what he was saying. She turned away from him, feigning a bit of a sob. “Just let us go!” Hermione cried out.

Bellatrix relinquished her grip on her nephew’s collar, and he retreated from the scene.

They were on their own, he had done his part, right? He could just step back and watch the events unfold. He could already see the glamour spells beginning to falter, and it wasn’t long before Hermione’s hair was beginning to return to normal brown, her freckles reappearing along the bridge of her nose.

What was worse, is Harry’s scar was growing redder as it reappeared.

Acting quickly, Draco made his way to the kitchen, harshly whispering a summons for a house elf.


	2. Elves come in handy

She didn’t know why he had done it. There he was, staring her square in the eye, his own full of recognition, and he lied. He lied to save them!

As he retreated and the snatchers began to argue with Bellatrix, she stared at Harry, who was quickly looking more like himself.

They needed to think, and fast.

There aren’t that many options, she thought. They couldn’t apparate out of the place, and they didn’t have their wands accessible. Her purse was long gone, on top of it all.

Suddenly, a decision was made, unbeknownst to her, and Harry was hoisted up, half-himself and crestfallen to maintain his hiding. He was dragged out of the room to the dungeons.

Why she was left, she couldn’t guess, until Bellatrix was knelt in front of her with a grin.

“You know… I’d recognize that hair anywhere, mudblood…”

* * *

 

Draco was hearing more than mere commotion now. There were screams coming from the other end of the manor. He had to work quickly.

Suddenly, the pop of apparition was heard as a house-elf returned to his master. Draco seethed.

“Is it ready!?” He whispered harshly, gripping the edge of the creature’s collar.

“Yes, Master’s safehouse is ready,” the elf offered breathlessly.

“Good, now come!” He nearly dragged the elf with him, as he strode quickly toward the screams.

* * *

 

Below this all, as Draco got closer to the screams, those which were coming from Hermione, there was an unheard ‘pop’ in the dungeons. Dobby had come to save the day! Taking everyone that he could touch in tow, he cleared out the dungeons and left the place barren.

Pinned to the floor with a wicked spell, and victim to the messily-scrawled ministrations of Bellatrix, Hermione was slowly carved into. Blood poured along the floor, staining the sleeve of Hermione’s jumper.

Her screams fell on deaf ears, though. The only thing worse were the cackles coming from Bellatrix’ own throat.

“Now, Mudblood, hold still, I want this to be legible!” Bellatrix insisted, jabbing deeper in the forearm of the girl before suddenly standing up to the sound of running feet. The guards had some bad news in regards to the dungeons.

“They’re all gone!” They bellowed, sweat on their brows.

As Bellatrix attempted to decipher these silly words and stammered admissions, Hermione could catch her breath, glancing over to her arm to assess the damage—she was only able to see the blood coating her skin thickly. Just beyond that, though, was the sideways image of Draco stealthily rushing to her side, reaching out for her hand.

Before they met, Bellatrix turned to see the pair of nearly meeting hands, house-elf in tow.

Having just learned that the house-elf Dobby had just apparated in and out of the house with their prized prisoners, she widened her eyes at the sight and fired off a quick imperious before Draco met Hermione’s hand, and the three disapparated from the Manor.


	3. Let there be elves

Before the spinning stopped, there was a quite apparent roar in her ears. Blood rushing maybe, or perhaps there was a nearby kettle on, but the sounds were becoming more and more human.

“Fucking hell!” The roar called.

Finally, realizing she was no longer pinned down to a floor, she opened her eyes and sat up to a dimly-lit space. All she could make out was someone in front of her being tended to by a house-elf. There was blood on her, blood on them, and blood around them.

Reaching for her wand, to find nothing, she croaked out: “what’s wrong?” all while still attempting to gather her bearings.

“Fucking splinched, really, blood hell…” Malfoy grit out, holding his left arm to his chest while the house-elf attempted to see the damage, and offering help. Draco merely shoved him away slightly, flinching from the pain of doing so.

Coming to her knees she crawled over to him, trying to see in the dark.

It was apparent that his arm was broken, and the fracture was coming through the skin, creating too much blood for her to imagine.

This amount of blood wasn't the worst thing she'd seen, sure, but there was something about the fact that it was HIS blood, and not just a matter of how much. The red was nearly the same hue as her own. So there was that.

 

She was finally proving herself to have the same, un-muddy blood as him. She quickly attempted remedy the situation in this dim-lit, dank space. Where were they even?

 

"Do you have your wand?" She spoke to him softly, attempting to ignore his panic and quell her own as it began to bubble over.

 

"Here," he nearly shoved it into her chest, his eyes averted from both her face and his own arm.

 

She used it to perform an Episky. She didn't even warn him. It was just in time for him to shout out in more shock than pain.

 

For such a huge fracture to be immediately snapped back into position and mend itself made a sickening crack in the darkness. The echo hinted that the space they were in was certainly bigger than she realized. She also had an itching suspicion that they were no alone.

 

"I'm sorry," she muttered, taking a bit of his robe, tearing it with her teeth, and coming to wrap his arm quickly. The spell had done the important work, but there was certainly lots of healing to be done, and none that she knew how to perform via magic, much less without her own wand.

 

He was leaning up against a wall nearby, spent from the day's heroism as well as bouts of pain. He'd felt pain, and he'd felt a number of deeply shameful things over his life, but feeling immense pain and shame in front of her was something that he could have died without.

 

The house elf was nearby still, thumping his head on the wall painfully.

 

It was then revealed just where they were. The area began to slowly illuminate, revealing hundreds of house-elves all in a large cavernous space.

 

While she worked nimbly along his arm, his form slack and possibly unconscious, she could take in the area.

 

Apparently they had apparated to a kind of cave of sorts, with many tunnels and rooms around.

 

"Is this... What is this place?" She whispered, trying to get the attention of the house elf who had apparated them there in the first place.

 

"Miss, this is our home," the elf offered, making a little squeak of his voice as he halted his self-flagellations.

 

"Home? As in, you stay here when you aren’t working?" She asked, gently tying the fabric around Draco's arm, who was still and silent, holding his knees to his chest in a cowering fashion. Hermione stood up, looking about, until her head thunked the roof of the place, startling her.

 

The hundreds of house elves slowly drew nearer, startling her as they did so. "Hello..." She whispered nervously, smiling though. She hated to think that she had encroached upon their home.

 

"Miss, welcome!" Several voices seemed to call in unison, some curtseying, others bowing a little to her.

 

There was something strange about these folk-- they didn't seem... domesticated? No that's no the right word. They seemed, oddly enough, free elves.

 

They wore clothes and shoes and held smaller elves in their arms, little baby elves it seemed.

 

Hermione's heart was swelling with both wonder and curiosity, all while they approached and went to shake her hand.


	4. Methods of Mending: Elf-Magick

She offered her hand to the elves, and they all began to wince at the sight of her bloodied arm, to which she recoiled, looking down at it.

 

A bit embarrassed, she took her arm to hold, noticing that it was still bleeding copiously. She turned back to Malfoy, who was inspecting his own arm slightly,

 

Probably seeing if I ruined his arm with a faulty spell, surely. She scoffed a little, and then crouched down to him. "Do you know this place?" She asked, and to her surprise, he looked up and shook his head, suddenly on guard upon noticing all of the house elves around him.

 

Noticing his grimace, she shook her head and stood in a slight crouch to avoid bumping her head.

 

"Do you mind if we stay here? I don't want to be a bother…” she asked.

 

They all gasped and nearly trampled over one another offering up lodging and food, shoving bits of bread into her hands.

 

"Filthy elf, where have you taken us?!" Draco scolded his little elf, beginning to grow red in the face and standing/crouching next to Hermione.

 

"It's a safe place, Master! Nobody can come!" The elf wailed, returning to punishing himself.

 

Soon, though, the two wizards were grabbed by their free pinkies and dragged along the way toward some corridors which were taller for them, just barely brushing the crown of their heads.

 

So, they were dragged on, until they were brought to a kind of infirmary, where a sage-looking elf was seated, tending to an older elf, apparently in need of some kind of medication.

 

"Miss, Mister, please sit, I'll be with you shortly." She nodded to them and the pair were guided toward where they were meant to sit.

 

Motioned to sit on the edge of a tiny bed, the pair shared the cot and stared at the old elf, who seemed to be in charge at the moment.

 

"Should never have trusted the damned elf..." He muttered, rubbing his arm and wincing in pain.

 

"We're safe, Malfoy, be grateful!" She didn't shout, but spoke sternly, turning to look at him, but unable to look him in the face.

 

"Well, part of that is me to thank, so I wouldn't be so quick to start worshipping these little things." He scowled, half looking her way.

 

"They are creatures! The same blood runs through them as it does us... Both of us, if you hadn't noticed." She chuckled, pointing to both of their wounds and nearly laughing again at the implications.

 

He finally looked at her arm, wincing and shaking his head. She noticed his fist gripping up in a show of anger, and began to worry that he was about to lash out.

 

Before he could, though, she was caught off guard by the small elf coming their way, looking much wiser up close.

 

"Now... What have we here?" The elf seemed to ask Hermione's arm rather than Hermione herself.

 

"I... don't know. It won't stop bleeding, I think the blade was cursed or--" Hermione seemed to peer down to the cuts in her arm for what seemed like the first time.

 

"Let's just get this sorted, shall we?" The tiny old elf scourified the area, and before the three pairs of eyes, the awful matter was plain to see.

 

Draco muttered "that bitch", or something akin, and Hermione's shame and rage was ringing in her ears, seeing the word 'mudblood' scratched into her skin in such a way that the skin was beginning to pucker from depth.

 

The blood was beginning again, and the old elf nodded, thinking and 'hming' before she decided on the next course of action. "Let's see now... " She started toward the alchemy table nearby and began a tincture.

 

Unable to stare at it any longer, Draco was the one to reach over and press a torn bit of his cloak to the cuts, pressing quite gently. It was not an attempt to stem the blood flow, as it still dripped to the floor-- but it was a courtesy.

 

At no point could he look at her face, though.

 

He let his hand rest there far too long, and as he removed his hand, now red with her own blood, he couldn't help but wonder what their next move was, exactly.

 

"Once we're sorted out... what do we do?" Hermione asked, seeming to read his mind, although he knew that was unlikely.

 

"I don't know... Honestly I wasn't thinking. I've probably killed us both in even bringing us here." He muttered.

 

They sat in silence for a moment, that moment seemed to stretch on for a while, though, and Malfoy took the silence as a sign to start talking again.

 

"No worries, really... Heh, not as if going back would give me much of a life anyway. Living a life in his army? Not really worth it..." he emphasized.

 

The small nurse came to Hermione’s side and tugged her injured hand gently and tugged off the bandage to inspect the injury. The blood wouldn't stem, but it seemed that this nurse was keen on the best method of repairing it. She unstoppered a little vial and brought to pour a green, sticky stuffs over her arm.

 

"Ssss.... burns." She whispered, before looking away from her outstretched arm and turning her head to Malfoy for the first time since they arrived. The burning began to increase. "Distract me..."

 

She had a slightly desperate look on her face, eyebrows raised in a look of exasperation as the redness filled her cheeks and she started tapping her feet to distract herself from the feeling in her arm. Steam began to hover over the area.

 

Although Draco couldn't take his eyes off of the wound, there was a very real attempt to heed her request.

 

"Distract you?... I... I don't know, how?" He seemed a little flustered at the request.

 

He didn't want to imagine what kind of pain was making this Gryiffindor princess ask for his help.

 

"Anything..!" She seemed to be gritting her teeth. A hum emitted from her throat, reflexively.

 

"Okay! Um, well there's some things we should talk about. Like... what do we do after this, right? And I guess, I already know I'll be killed on sight if one of the death eaters finds me. Same for you-- but that's nothing new for you I guess." He chuckled nervously.

 

He continued, seeing that she was still at a loss for words as the small nurse began to apply a kind of thick, sickly looking lotion over the wounds. They seemed to burn before his eyes.

 

His expression was making her look a bit more panicked. "Stop looking at it!" She suddenly insisted.

 

He had nowhere to look but her eyes. He tried his best to focus on them, and started to speak again.

 

"Okay, well, what about on your end of things. Do you think that you can make it back to the Order without being caught and killed? Or... for that matter, do you think that I might be able to... Seek asylum?" He asked hopefully, but not really holding his breath.

 

She screwed up her face, tilting her head and chuckling. "Really, Malfoy?"

 

He shrugged, suddenly a little enraged. "Well I don't KNOW, Granger! I don't know what I'm to do after all of this resolves, or if it even will!" He threw his hands up in the air in a show of anger.

 

She sighed, wincing suddenly and gripping the sheets of the bed that they were sitting on, tugging on his cloak in turn. He glanced down, noticing the white-knuckled grip she had on his clothing.

 

"Granger... It's... It's alright..." He offered, his voice seeming to ask it as more of a question than a reassurance.

 

With a rather disbelieving chuckle, she shook her head and leaned back against the bit of the bed, only to sit back up, as if trying desperately to find a kind of comfort.

 

He rested his hand on her own, really only the fingers along her wrist. He attempted to maintain eye contact, but found that it was easier to look at her hair, that bushy mass over her shoulders.

"You really do look like you've been in a war, don't you..." He teased, giving a rather sly smirk.

 

She scoffed, a bit ignited now at his teasing. "Excuse me?!" She nearly shouted. The small nurse suddenly shushed the pair of them, in an attempt to concentrate on a bit of bandaging she was applying-- it was a kind of leaves, wetly sticking to the still slightly bloody area.

 

"Now... Miss, this will hurt a bit." The nurse offered, without much pause before applying some kind of powder.

 

Before Hermione could look at the little woman in shock, her senses were assaulted, and a squeal croaked from her throat. She turned her head further from the view, gnawing on her bottom lip.

 

Quickly, Draco gripped Hermione's hand, covering her fist like a pitcher over a ball, gripping tightly in an effort to lend some more distraction, as he was out of things to say.

 

"Shit," he muttered, trying not to look over at the now-smoking area of flesh that was billowing over her shoulder. The leaves began to wilt, and melt in some way over her flesh, almost turning into her flesh in a way, but a dark, rich green-- slowly turning black with a kind of magic Malfoy had never seen before.

 

"What... What are you doing?" He asked suddenly, before the wincing stopped and Hermione looked over to her arm to assess the, now soothed, damage.

 

"Is this a kind of elf medicine?" Hermione asked.

 

The little elf nodded, smiling and finally planting a small kiss to the wound. The matronly act was surely just for show, they thought-- only for a wave of soothing to overcome Hermione in the moment, making her visibly relax and take a deep breath.

 

Draco could feel her hand relaxing beneath his own, and nodded. "Good, good...."

 

He pulled his hand back just as soon as Hermione looked down to see it.

 

Flushing faces were a nonissue, as the nurse stole both of their attentions away and rushed to Draco's arm. It seemed that there was less finesse needed for his injury, as she rested her hands over the area and muttered a bit.

 

In a moment or two, he merely hissed in pain, and then it was over. He wriggled his fingers, finding feeling coming back to the area. It seemed that this elf magic was a bit more powerful than he had expected.


	5. Forman's Hovel

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, her good hand rested over her leaf-covered arm, and looking at his arm, rather than his face. 

He could see the slightest bit of redness to her cheek. From pain, he thought.

"Yea," he said, and came to rest his hand on his mending arm. 

"Do we... stay here, or..." Hermione seemed to ask nobody in particular. The nurse was walking away humming happily. Draco and she sat on the bed, adjusting awkwardly to look around for some guidance in the situation. 

"That's the real question, isn't it?... Should we stay or should we go?" 

They both nodded in agreement, and came to stand. Just then a rather well-dressed elf came in to greet them.

"You two! Mister and Missus, welcome! We want to formally welcome you to Morrow Burrow.... Surely, you have been made comfortable and offered a bed?" the little man asked, tugging on his tiny suspenders and smiling brightly... Beaming, really.

"Well, we thought these were..." Hermione motioned to the beds before her and started to chuckle, noticing that they were much too small for them to sleep in, much less sit in.

"Ohhhhh, no-no-no-no, haha!" He laughed deeply-- much more deeply than would be expected from a tiny elf such as himself.

"Now, follow me, I must get you properly settled for the night. Storms are coming and the Burrow is certainly bound to get noisy. Best settle in for sleep before it all hits, aye?" He laughed again, seeming quite pleased as he waved them to follow him down a nearby hallway. 

"After you..." Draco motioned, following behind Granger as they slowly moved after the little man. 

It wasn't long before they made it into a rather large room full of beds, nearly twenty. It was furnished in such a way that would suggest humans or wizards might inhabit the space on a regular basis.

"Is this... Forman's Hovel?" Hermione suddenly asked. 

The small elf turned, beaming endlessly. "Why... You've heard of us, then? Were they kind to us on Yelp!?" 

Hermione laughed audibly, but soon clapped a hand over her mouth as she saw that Draco was utterly lost in the matter. "Yelp?" He asked....

"Why, this Hovel has been home to many a runaway wizard, but only the savory kind, mind you. We do not harbor fugitives, nor do we hide anyone running from the law. Why, we have a tight knit crowd who frequents-- Some of them you might know, Hermione Granger."

The little man winked. Cheeky fellow.

"Wow... I never thought I'd see it... I surely thought it was long gone, or even a myth, but my... It's right here. It's, splendid, isn't it." She walked into the space deeper and deeper, noticing the vintage, but impeccably clean linens on the bedding, and even a tiny window to be able to see a fake outdoor scene.

It was really made to make one feel at home. Although it was more of a hostel than a home, it was home to many a wizard seeking asylum throughout the years. And now it was their turn to seek such an asylum-- until they figured out the next course of action, of course. She came to a bed and sat down, sighing comfortably.

"To think, I thought that we were going to need to sleep in those tiny beds, for tiny little elves. I'm daft at times," she chuckled, rubbing her hands over the duvet before laying back slowly into the welcoming comfort.

Draco smirked at that. "So, we'll stay here tonight, I suppose..."


	6. Burning from both ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you think that these chapters should be longer? Any notes on the work itself? <3!

A long time passed, as the pair of them got cleaned up in the nearby baths, and took time to settle into their beds. 

The choice of beds was aplenty. And that's where the rub lay...

Hermione had already claimed her bed, the second from the end of, just by the entrance. 

Now, where for Draco to bunk. 

To choose a bed at the far end would seem rude, surely. To choose one right next to her would seem odd, too, though. So, he was at an impasse, it seemed. It would be too obvious to pick a bed in the mid-way. Instead, he looked to the other side of the room, and chose the bed caddy-cornered to her own. 

They had been given some oversized pyjamas, and changed into them, along with some robes, to get cozy for the night. Seated on his bed, he began to flip through an odd book that was resting on his bedside table. 

She had found a book too, of course, and it was much bigger than his. Once he found no interest in the book about faes, he set the book down and walked over toward her. "Granger," he startled her from her reading and she looked a bit shocked, staring wide-eyed at him. "Sorry, did you say something?" 

"Yes, where did you find that book?" He asked, pointing to the large tome that was weighing down her arms. She noticed that she still seemed to favor her left arm a bit. 

"Oh, I'll show you, I had asked if there were any books, and you won't believe this."

She walked out of the room, book in hand, and didn't seem to wait for him to follow. This caused him to sprint for a moment just after her.

"Well, give me a moment to catch up, Granger." He muttered.

Soon they were in a large room. He'd expected it to be a library, but instead it was a very interesting room full of booths. 

"So... What you do is go into a booth and speak a specific home or library, and it will grant you access to their collection. From there, you pick a book and... there you go." 

She sounded utterly elated. 

"Wow, okay, so... Any place?" 

She nodded.

She seemed insatiable, as she stepped into the nearby booth, intent on getting another book for reading. 

No matter, he stepped into a booth and decided on something familiar. So, he spoke "Hogwarts." 

From the moment he spoke the words, there was a sudden whoosh, and the entire collection visualized in front of him. 

He sifted through the books and, contended with his choices, stepped out. 

He had to stifle a laugh at the stack of books in Hermione's arms.

"Wow, you sure seem... eager tonight." He spoke, a smirk a rather sneakily sliding over his features.

She blushed, shrugging. "Well, we need to do some research. Before Harry and I were captured, we were on a -- on a mission." She trailed off, realizing that she shouldn't be telling him much. 

They turned toward the exit, and toward their shared room.

"By the way, I never got to tell you 'thank you'." She set her books down, the dent in the bed becoming quite comical.

"Is that you thanking me, Granger?" He turned, hands searching for pockets where there were none. He awkwardly gave up and set his book onto his pillow. 

"Well, yes. Thank you, Draco Malfoy. I don't know why you did it, but let's just say that I'd probably be dead if you hadn't done it." There was a very serious look coming over her features, as she pondered what this meant for him. 

"You're a deserter, at best, you know..." She offered gently, looking over his features. The dim lighting of the room wasn't exactly romantic in any sense of the word. It was a rather sterile looking room and there were little flecks of wax hitting the ground every few moments from enchanted candles.

There was a silence. Then he finally spoke. 

"I don't know what you're wanting me to say, Granger. I mean... There's nothing for me there. Sure, there's not really much for me at the Order I imagine. Judging from your reaction to me wanting to seek asylum, I feel like that offer was never even on the table. I didn't mean to assume, really." 

She didn't interrupt him, wanting to hear him out.

"--So, while my options are limited, I have to say that I don't regret this. I don't regret stopping Bellatrix. I don't know if I could have lived with myself..." He frowned, looking down in thought.

"I called you that, that same thing she wrote on your arm. And, not only do I wish I never had, but I really just, regret the whole fucking ordeal ever coming to fruition." He was breathless, shaking his head and once again searching for pockets. 

His eyes met hers for a split second and he was suddenly enraged. 

"And besides-- Why did you let them catch you anyway?! I don't know what would have happened if I hadn't been there, but let's just say YOU shouldn't have been there either, Granger!" 

The anger was unwarranted, and yet, Hermione seemed to have a rather forgiving look over her features. 

From his perspective, the lighting was far too intimate, revealing his vulnerability for her to see.

These pyjamas weren't helping at all.

"I know. And I want to make sure that you know how I feel about the matter. You were brave. It was very-- Very Gryffindor of you." She teased slightly. 

With almost a pout, which turned to a sneer, he turned quickly on his heel and sat down on the bed, gripping the book now and running a hand over the cover. 

_ Hogwarts: A History _ .

"That's my favorite book, you know. Have you ever read it?" She was suddenly behind him, sitting on the bed slightly to peer over his shoulder.

He said nothing, peeking very slightly back in her direction. 

"Well, I wanted to say, even if you won't talk to me. I feel this is a very important turning point for you. This is your volta, as it were." She was running her fingers over her own book, debating which to read. 

"And, if it's any consolation, I will do everything I can to make the Order hear you out. I'll tell them what happened, and how brave you were, Draco."

He heard her breath hitch in her throat a little, some unexpected emotion overcoming her. 

"Thank you, Granger." He hesitated for a moment, debating on the direction of the conversation. 

"We should get some rest..."

They both nodded, and Hermione returned to her bed. 

Before long, they were both cozied up in their beds, facing one another (although they avoided acknowledging it), and buried their noses in their respective books.

The night went on like that, until they both ended up falling asleep in mirrored positions, books having nearly collapsed on their faces.

\--------------


End file.
